


Enough (for now)

by IAmANonnieMouse



Category: London Spy
Genre: Alex POV, Angst, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, I'm Sorry, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-10-07 20:20:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10368621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmANonnieMouse/pseuds/IAmANonnieMouse
Summary: Danny is bright where he is dark, rough where he is refined, soft where he is broken. Danny is nothing like him, is the absolute opposite of all he’s ever known, and he loves him for it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into the London Spy fandom, and I apologize for making my entrance with angst.
> 
> [a-forger-and-a-point-man](http://a-forger-and-a-point-man.tumblr.com/) got me into London Spy, so it's entirely her fault. Entirely.

Alex falls in love with his quicksilver smile and his windblown hair and his sharp laugh. His lean body and gentle hands and glittering eyes. His honesty, his naivete, his innocence. His name.

Danny.

*

Sun, spring. Serenity. They’re walking together, idle, no destination in mind. Alex never experienced a moment without intent, without reason, until Danny. He thinks he likes it, that frightening combination of freedom and the unknown.

“Have you seen _Doctor Who_?” Danny asks.

Alex turns to look at him. He loves looking at Danny, could spend all day memorizing the planes and curves of his face, the angle of his smile. “No,” he says. “I’ve never had the time.”

Danny stops walking, eyes wide. “You’ve _never_ seen _Doctor Who_?”

Alex stops, too, drinks in every detail. Danny is bright where he is dark, rough where he is refined, soft where he is broken. Danny is nothing like him, is the absolute opposite of all he’s ever known, and he loves him for it.

“No,” he says. “I have never seen _Doctor Who._ ”

They stand for a moment, watching each other. People walk past them, around them, near them. They’re in the middle of the footpath, Alex thinks. They should probably move.

“Sometimes, I just can’t believe you’re real,” Danny announces. He starts walking again, back in the direction they just came from. He probably doesn’t even realize.

Alex falls into step beside him. _I can never quite believe that you’re real,_ he thinks.

Danny’s hand brushes against his. In the branches above them, the birds are singing.

*

Warmth, quiet. Tranquility. Alex has gotten used to waking up like this, in Danny’s bed, with Danny’s arms around him. With Danny.

He blinks open his eyes, meets Danny’s flushed stare.

“What?” he says into the silence.

“Nothing,” Danny says, nearly tripping over the word. 

It’s more than nothing. Alex waits.

“I was watching you,” Danny blurts, blinking furiously. “Sleeping.”

Alex wonders what a normal reaction would be. Danny is watching him, obviously, transparently nervous. Alex has looked into his glittering eyes and let them soothe the tension inside of him, like a beacon in a storm, a port in a roiling sea. Alex has let Danny guide him through the motions, teach him what he’s not known for years, without faltering once. Alex doesn’t want him to be nervous like this. Doesn’t like when he’s nervous like this.

“I don’t mind,” he says. “That you were watching.”

“Oh,” Danny says. He laughs, briefly, that short bark of air that is so uniquely _him_ that Alex knows he’ll never hear anything else like it.

They lie next to each other in the stillness of the morning. Watching. Alex doesn’t mind.

“You need to go to work,” Danny says eventually.

“Yes.” Alex isn’t ready to move yet, doesn’t want to disturb this moment. He doesn’t want to go to _work._

But he can’t say that to Danny. Danny thinks he’s an investment banker. Which he’s not. Except, Danny doesn’t know that.

Sometimes, Alex gets tired of the way his secret life keeps getting in the way of everything.

Danny leans in, gives him a gentle kiss. “Go on,” he murmurs, lips curled. “You can’t stand being late.”

He’s right. Alex inhales sharply and forces himself up, out. He knots his tie at the foot of Danny’s bed, watching.

Danny is still under the covers, smiling gently. Alex wants to curl up with him, relearn the slope of his spine, the bend of his arm.

He should say something. But what? That he loves Danny’s proportions? That the curl of his body is the Golden Ratio, the Fibonacci spiral, the organized chaos of the mathematics that surround them? That he wishes he could tell Danny the truth about everything? That he wishes he didn’t have to go to work? That he loves him?

He meets Danny’s eyes. “Goodbye.”

It seems inadequate, a paltry offering of the thoughts swirling inside his mind. But Danny shifts, graces him with another beautiful smile. “Goodbye.”

It’s enough, for now.

Alex goes to work.

*

Whispers, secrets. Broken patterns. Alex knows that he is in danger. He’s pushing too hard, angering the wrong people in the wrong departments, except he can’t stop. To stop now, after all these years, would be like cutting out his own heart. Maybe worse. He’s never really cared about his heart anyway.

But Danny likes his heart, likes to sometimes press his ear against Alex’s chest and listen to it roar. Alex thinks that, possibly, Danny would miss his heart, if nothing else.

He scrolls through his lines and lines and lines of code.

He wonders what he and Danny are going to eat for dinner.

*

Evening, comfort. Simplicity. They’re on Danny’s bed, watching _Doctor Who._

“What do you think?” Danny asks.

Alex pauses, tries to find a way to translate the mess in his head into words. Danny waits, patient, silent. Alex has never tried to talk to someone like this, has never had anyone to talk to like this.

“It’s,” he says, “strange.”

Danny laughs. “Yes,” he says. “And?”

Alex glances at him. “I think I need to watch another episode to make up my mind.”

Danny beams and he leans in, kisses him. He presses his body against Alex’s side as he queues up the next episode. Alex wants to— He thinks he could, maybe.

Halfway through the episode, he puts his arm around Danny’s shoulders. He doesn’t know what to expect.

Danny hums and curls into his side, wraps his own arms around Alex’s waist, warm skin brushing against Alex’s like a brand. There’s a strange sensation in Alex’s chest. Is this what people call hope? Or love?

They watch more episodes, until it’s pitch black outside and Danny’s getting that twitch that means he needs a smoke. Alex loves this, wishes he would never have to leave this.

*

Gentle, tranquil. Loving. Danny is watching him, staring.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks.

Everything. Nothing. His program, the agencies that are coming out of the woodwork, banding together to track him down. The danger he’s in, the danger he’s put Danny in. Danny.

He turns, realizes he’s been silent for too long. “Ask me again,” he says.

“What are you thinking about?” Danny asks.

 _I love you,_ Alex thinks. _I’m sorry. For everything you don’t understand._

He leans in, kisses him. It’s enough, for now.

*

Confusion, tension. Tears.

“I don’t want you to be with me just because I’m the first.”

Why, Alex wants to say. What have I done? What can I do? He wonders if this is what hard drives feel like when a virus downloads, manifests without warning and goes straight for the heart. He’s learned to care about his heart, a little. He thought Danny did, too.

“So you should see other people,” Danny says. “You should.”

“I don’t want to,” he says. His face is wet.

“I only meant—”

“I don’t need to.” It’s hardly what he wants to say, but it’s enough. Danny comes back to him, puts a hand on the side of his face, watches him with those heartbreaking, glittering eyes. 

“Okay,” Danny murmurs, stroking his thumb against the slash of Alex’s cheekbones. “Okay.”

It’s not okay. Danny almost walked away and he almost couldn’t get the words out of his mouth and it’s not okay.

He leans down, presses their foreheads together. Breathes.

“Okay,” he echoes.

*

Confessions, memories. Relief.

“Do you believe in soulmates?” Danny had asked him, once.

No, but he’s starting to believe in fate.

“I don’t want to have any secrets from you,” Danny says. “I never want to have any secrets ever again.”

Alex wants to say the same. Wishes he could say the same. But there are others who have set their sights on him now, villains bigger than MI6, and they’re so close to him, too close, he can almost feel them breathing down the back of his neck.

He realized long ago that he’s never going to be able to have both in his life. His program and Danny. But now he has to make the decision. There’s no going back.

Danny is watching him. Not rushing him, never rushing him, but clearly worried now, afraid that he’s said too much. He knows that Danny worries he talks too much, especially since Alex talks so little. But he could listen to Danny speak for hours, days, years.

He has no words for this moment, can’t bear to sully this with any half- or quarter-truths.

He raises his hand, slowly, stares into Danny’s eyes. 

Danny raises his own hand. Their palms touch, their fingers twine.

It’s enough, for now.

*

Peace, bacon. Domesticity. Danny should have turned over the bacon by now, but he’s focusing on the eggs.

“Let’s go away for the weekend.”

Alex turns, looks at his eyes, his hair, his smile. His Danny.

His time is running out. He was going to deal with them all this weekend, get them off his back and out of London. They’re close, too close. Everything is crumbling under his feet, except for Danny.

He doesn’t know how to tell Danny this, how to explain. He can’t. But he wants to tell him something, anything. Just in case.

Danny is nervous right now, waiting for his answer. Alex doesn’t like it when Danny is nervous.

“Sure,” he says.

Danny smiles, quicksilver, sharp.

Alex reaches behind himself, turns up the radio. He doesn’t know who’s listening anymore. “I have to buy a battery for my laptop.”

Anyone else would have just stared at him for the non-sequitur. But Danny is Danny, so he says he understands and kisses him on the lips and serves them breakfast.

Alex eats his bacon and tries not to feel too guilty. 

*

Hot, dark. Stifling. He’s dreaming about Danny, about his quicksilver smile and his beautiful eyes and his sharp laugh.

_I was that man. And you were that someone._

He tries to reach out, touch him, hold him. His hand hits something hard, flat. Not Danny.

He groans, tries to figure out what—

His legs are pressed against his chest, his arms curled over his head. He fumbles in the dark, his body covered in sweat. What—

He can’t. He can’t breathe. It’s too. What—

He bangs on the walls caging him, screams. He needs to get out, he needs to get out, he needs to get out, he needs—

“Alastair.”

Out, out, out, he needs to get out, he—

“Frances!”

_Get me out get me out get me out get me out_

“Alastair,” she says. “Listen. We have very little time. Listen to me. You’re in a great deal of trouble, but there is a way out. Do you understand?”

He closes his eyes, tries to breathe normally. His muscles are sore, cramped. He doesn’t know how long he’s been in here. He’s missed Danny, no doubt. Danny.

Frances asked him a question. Alex inhales, forces his mind back under his control. “I understand.”

Frances talks. This was arranged, a warning, a game to them, no doubt. They’ll let him out if he abandons everything here and goes to America. Everything.

“Alastair,” Frances says, “all you have to do is agree. All you have to do is agree.”

_Danny._

His breathing quickens, his mind slips. He screams, bangs on the walls, shouts.

_Danny Danny Danny_

He needs to get out, he needs to get back to Danny, he needs—

“Alastair,” Frances says.

_Alex, I am Alex, he calls me Alex._

“All you have to do is agree.”

_Danny._

He can do the math. He’s going to run out of oxygen. He’s going to—

He calms himself, barely. “I agree,” he says.

“You will go to America?”

“I will.”

“You must speak clearly.”

Again: “I will go to America.” Selling the last vestiges of his soul. But he can try to save his heart.

_Danny._

“You’ll leave it all behind?”

_Danny._

His mind is slowing, his lungs gasping. Never. Never leave it behind. Never leave—

_Do you believe in soulmates?_

“Alastair, you must never make contact with anyone from this life ever again.”

He can’t. Can’t even say it.

“Alastair?”

Quicksilver smile, glittering eyes, messy curls. Kisses and bacon. _Doctor Who._

_You might be the only innocent person I know._

“His name is Danny,” he says. His face is wet, more than just his body going into shock. He presses his hand against the wall, tries to think, to think, to think—

“Danny,” Frances echoes, soft.

_Danny. Danny. Danny._

He’s missed their weekend away. He’s. Danny will hate him. 

“I’ll never see him again,” he says. Forfeiting his life, his soul, his work. But he’s trying to save his heart. He’s trying. He’s.

_Danny._

He can hear movement outside, the click of a clasp. He shifts, hopes—

Something bangs on the lid. The movement stops.

“This can be a new start for us, too,” Frances says. “You’ll hate me for a while. But I love you so much.”

He can do the math.

“I love you too.”

She moves. He hears her leave.

He beats at the walls around him until his hands are aching. Too small, too hot, too dark. He has to. He has to—

Silence. Nothing but his own ragged breaths.

He can do the math.

_Danny._

Early morning, dew. Discovery.

_You don’t know me, but if you did you’d know that I’m always fine._

Love, hope. Fear.

_I want to try again._

Kisses, warmth. The Fibonacci spiral. 

_You need to go to work._

“I love you,” Alex whispers, eyes fluttering.

_Danny._

Secrets, lies. Truth.

_What are you thinking about?_

“I love you.”

Picnics, walks. Tea.

_Can you tell me your real name now?_

Again, even as his lungs struggle to fill.

“I love you.”

No one is coming. He can do the math.

“Danny.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am on [Tumblr.](http://iamanonniemouse.tumblr.com/) I'm a lot nicer than this fic made me seem, I swear.


End file.
